


you've got the salt and i've got the wound

by youremyqueen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, Female Relationships, Gift Fic, POV Female Character, POV Third Person, Prompt Fic, Smoking, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youremyqueen/pseuds/youremyqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" Erica leans over her shoulder, pressing down her back like something straight out of a porno. It's almost like she googled <i>"bad girl"</i> and just went with the first search results to come up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've got the salt and i've got the wound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scorpiod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiod/gifts).



Erica's got claws and she knows how to use them. Allison's got china skin and eyelashes and hair for days. Erica's got nothing to do with her time and Allison makes time for her.

It starts with Scott and a fight and a bottle of something sharp. Allison wakes up with bad breath and half-moon circles on her waist and Erica's sugar-pink lipgloss smudged all over her clothes. Her bones ache and she throws up twice and Erica's left a sticky note with her number on the night table. Allison crumbles it up, throws it away, then digs it out of the trash can and presses the edges flat. Erica's handwriting is different than it used to be, _before_ \- she knows from class, knows the way you know things about the people you go to school with, even if you don't know them.

Erica dots her i's with hearts now.

Allison doesn't call her.

\---

"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" Erica leans over her shoulder, pressing down her back like something straight out of a porno. It's almost like she googled _"bad girl"_ and just went with the first search results to come up. It might be something like pathetic, if Allison didn't know she could rip her throat out as easy as blinking.

"I'm not," she starts, but changes her mind halfway through. Most of Allison's life consists of making up her mind about what she is and what she wants. "I'm looking for you," she says, and turns around to face Erica head-on.

Erica smiles like a match caught fire and kisses like something hungry and cruel. It's not anything like Scott, who tries so hard to control it, the wolf thing. If Erica has anything at all, it's not self-control.

"Miss me, babe?" Erica asks, digging her teeth in around the words.

"I tried to call," Allison grits out between heavy breaths, maybe just to be contrary.

Erica slides a hand down Allison's back, feeling her up in the crassest way possible and grinning when Allison goes stiff in her arms. This is just like last time, except clearer and realer, not a drunken half-dream, and Allison's decided to be a tough girl, but she still can't help the fear that crawls in under her skin and makes a home there. _Easy as blinking_ , she thinks. She should have brought her bow.

"You're a liar, Allison Argent," Erica whispers, and her breath is whiskey warm and biting. "It's a good thing you're so pretty." She says it like an insult, and Allison bites her lip to hold back the squeal when a hand pulls down the zip of her jeans.

\---

After a while, it becomes less of a thrill and more of a fact of life to Allison, like brushing her hair in the mornings or reading Lydia's overdramatic texts in class. On nights Erica says hello with her teeth and tongue and quick hands, and at dawn she says goodbye quietly. More often, she doesn't say anything. Her caustic performances become less terrifying and more routine, her taunts less clever with every repetition. Allison used to feel sorry for her, before, back when she was just a girl with seizures. Sometimes she still does.

"You smoke now?" Allison asks her once, after.

Erica stares evenly at her as she opens the pack and lighting a thin cigarette. "I've always smoked," she says, and even if always just means, _"since I was turned,"_ Allison's pretty sure it's not true.

She almost smiles as she turns around to pull her shirt back on, still slightly modest after all this time. "You're such a liar," she mumbles. Erica just puffs on her cigarette and watches her get dressed.


End file.
